Daheim
by TheMostAwesomeMe
Summary: One shot. After WWII Germany was parted and Gilbert, formerly known as Prussia, has to represent the GDR and live with Russia. He misses his brother Germany and spends all his time with Russia because he needs love. RusPrus, kind of. Rated T because Prussia isn't completely normal and there is some blood. EDIT 6/12/13: I'll have to rewrite this soon, I don't like it anymore.


**Here it is, my first and totally awesome Hetalia fanifc. Yay! Little warning: Prussia is a bit insane and OOC and he feels unawesome in this story. If the content offends you I'm really sorry, I don't mean to offend anyone. Prussia probably has something like the Stockholm-syndrome, that's why he acts like this. If I made any mistakes I'm sorry, I'm not a native speaker.**

* * *

Gilbert struggled. He cursed. He screamed. He tried to reach something and destroy it. But it was of no use. His wrists and ankles were tied to the poles of the bed he was lying on and he wasn't able to free himself. Gilbert had even tried to bite on the ropes that were wound around his arms, but of course it hadn't worked. He had yelled until his voice had vanished and tried to flee together with the bed, but he hadn't even managed to move half a meter with him still attached to the piece of furniture until people had found him and interrupted his efforts. "People" were the other countries that lived in Russia's house, the Soviet Union. Gilbert lived there too. Well, actually, he was forced to live there. After the second Wold War Germany had been parted and Gilbert, formerly known as the country Prussia, had been taken away from his brother. He now represented Eastern Germany, the part of Germany that belonged to the Soviet Union, and that meant that he had to live with Russia now. After he had tried to run away multiple times he had been tied to his bed. That had been a few days ago and he was only allowed to stand u when Russia let him go to the bathroom, always careful not to give him an opportunity to run away again. And now Gilbert was lying on the bed, yelling insults at the ceiling and trying not to lose his mind. He didn't allow himself to stop fighting because he knew that that would be the moment he would give up and accept his situation. Suddenly the Prussian heard steps again. He tried to look at the door, but he wasn't able to move his head in the right ankle.  
"Who's there?" he asked harshly and glared at the ceiling because he couldn't see the person entering the room. He heard the steps approaching him and was finally able to get a look at his visitor. It was Russia.  
"What do you want?" the albino on the bed yelled. He knew he had to look ridiculous, his hair uncombed, in the same clothes he had been wearing for days and of course tied to the bed. The face of the Russian didn't show any expression, not even the smile that never seemed to leave it normally. Gilbert showed his teeth in an of course useless attempt to scare the tall man.  
"Privjet." Ivan said and sat down on the chair next to the bed.  
"Verpiss dich!" Gilbert growled and shot him glares from his read eyes. "Do you think I haven't been humiliated enough? Do you have something new for me? Are you going to make me wear dresses now?"  
Russia sighed. It sounded almost sad. "Prussia. It doesn't have to be like this. Do you think I enjoy this? If you would just accept that you'll live with me now, like the others, it won't be too bad. We can be like a family, da? It could be so nice." The small smile returned on Ivan's face. But Gilbert didn't want to hear any of that.  
"No! I don't want that! I want to go home, to my brother! To my real family! I miss Germany, I miss home, I miss my little brother!" The moment he had said it Prussia regretted his outburst. Not because of Ivan, but because it was the truth he had tried to deny. Now that he had said it out loud it was true. Gilbert had admitted his weakness. He wanted to go home. He could almost feel how the wall of anger he had built up in himself broke down and only sadness remained. But Russia didn't seem to notice it. He stood up with another loud sight.  
"Just think about it. I think we all could be friends." Then he left the room. Gilbert stayed where he was, his mind slowly filling itself with dark thoughts full of sadness.

* * *

Gilbert slowly walked down the stairs to the dinning room. He slowly opened the door and walked inside. As usual he was the last one that entered, the only little act of rebellion he was still able to, and everyone else turned to him when he walked inside. Nobody talked. As usual. Gilbert sat down on his chair and the other 'guests' in the house turned their attention back to their plates. It was a very uncomfortable atmosphere, as it always was when they got together for a meal. Some time had passed since Gilbert had accidently told Russia how he felt and after that incident he had stopped fighting and accepted his fate, just like the other countries. Now he lived in this big, unfriendly house with a lot of people he didn't talk to. Everyone seemed to be depressed and scared of Russia, but he didn't seem to notice everyone's sadness at all. He always smiled and talked about them all being 'friends'. Gilbert wasn't sure if he really thought that or just didn't want to accept the bad mood in his house. The people at the table ate quietly. The sounds of the silverware on the plates seemed disturbing and loud in the silence. When everyone was done eating, they all just awkwardly sat at their seats and waited. When Russia finally said "Dismissed." everyone jumped up and left the dinning room as quickly as possible. Gilbert almost ran to the little room that was his own. He lay down on the bed, closed his eyes and pretended to be at home in his own bed. Of course his home didn't exist anymore for he had lost his house together with his country, but Gilbert still liked to think of home. A small smile crept on his face as he thought of the time he and Ludwig had spent together when they were young and lived together. Gilbert's hand searched for the iron cross around his neck. But the necklace wasn't there. He froze for a second as he couldn't find it, then he jumped up from the bed and ran downstairs. He probably lost it in the dinning room, or at least Gilbert hoped that this was the case. He opened the door and stepped inside, immediately rushing to his seat. There was his little cross, lying under a chair. He kneeled down and quickly put the necklace around his neck again, feeling much better already. When he stood up he suddenly noticed that he wasn't alone in the room. A figure was sitting at the table, the face buried in his hands. It was Russia. It didn't seem like he had even noticed Gilbert, obviously lost in his own thoughts. For a moment, a short, strange moment, the Prussian thought about going to him. Ask him what was wrong. Comfort him. At the same moment he thought that, Gilbert shook it off, a bit shocked by his own mind. Why had he thought that? As quick as he could he left the room again and went, no, stormed back to his room. He closed the door and lay down on the bed, pulling the pillow over his head. What was wrong with him? Stupid question. Gilbert knew exactly what was wrong with him. He was in a big house with nobody to talk to. He was lonely. And he was sure that he knew exactly how Ivan felt.

* * *

Gilbert frowned at his image in the mirror. Was that him? The proud and awesome Prussia? A Teutonic knight who had fought numberless battles, a strong nation that everybody would be proud to belong to? No. The person that stared back at him wasn't the awesome Prussia. It was the sad and broken Eastern Germany. A pitiful shadow of what used to be so great and strong. Gilbert hated what he saw. He hated it because it showed him what he had become. He knew how much he would have despised a weak person like that in his strong days and it hurt him almost physically. Wasn't it enough that he had lost his country, his people? Wasn't it enough that he had have to leave his beloved little brother to live with Russia? No, he also had to be humiliated like this. Seeing how he became less and less the person he used to be only a few years ago, turning into a sad, depressed and self-pitying ghost. He hated to eat and sleep. It made him want to throw up to put food in his mouth. Why did he bother to even do so? Would anyone mind if he just stopped existing? He smiled a bit when he thought about just getting thinner and thinner and one day just disappear. That would be a nice death. Nothing left that anyone would see. Nobody would throw his dead body in a hole; no worms would eat his pale skin. But that wouldn't happen, would it? Gilbert knew that a country couldn't just starve. But he wasn't a country, so it was worth a try. Maybe he would just die of his loss of sleep. He was afraid of the evening, afraid of his bad that stared at him and wanted him to come and give into his need for sleep, only to whisper to him when he was asleep and give him horrible nightmares. Gilbert looked at the dark shadows under his eyes. Bluish gray on the white skin. It made him feel sick, like somebody had painted two dark spots on a blank piece of paper. _Dirty_. Gilbert grabbed a porcelain bowl full of water that was standing on the small nightstand and without thinking he smashed it against the mirror. Both the mirror and the bowl broke into a thousand pieces that fell on the floor and towards the Prussian. To water in the bowl spilled over him and the fragments cut in his right hand. The sharp pain made him gasp and he stepped away from the mirror, but he slipped on the little pool of water he had created and fell to the floor, cutting his other hand and his legs. He flinched and moved to sit down on his bottom, noticing that the blood slowly turned the fabric of his trousers red and wet and made it cling to his legs. A dry sob escaped Gilbert's throat. Did he deserve this? Living in this horrible house forever, with nobody to talk to than his own face in the mirror. The face that he started to hate more and more every time he saw it. Tears rolled down his cheeks when he thought those hopeless things. He tried to wipe them away with his injured hands but he only smeared blood all over his face that got mixed up with the tears that dripped off his chin and left blurry, red stains on his shirt. He sat there for several minutes, more and more tears escaping his eyes that he unsuccessfully tried to wipe away. He looked like a complete mess, blood all over him and crying, and to be honest: He was a complete mess. His sobs got so loud that he didn't even hear Russia. The tall man stood in the door and looked at the broken man on the floor with mixed feelings. Confusion. Surprise. Sadness. Pity? He bent down and gently touched Gilbert's shoulder. The albino flinched and turned around, staring at Ivan with red, puffy eyes.  
"What do you want?" he asked. He had intended it to sound harsh, but the tears made his voice sound weak and pitiful.  
"You need to put something on this wounds, da? Or they will be infected."  
Gilbert stubbornly shook his head. "No. Don't help me. Leave me alone." To his surprise Ivan actually stood up and left the room. Gilbert wiped his face with his sleeve and looked at the floor. He wasn't able to stand up for he would have needed his hands for that and they were injured. Maybe he shouldn't have rejected Ivan's help. He felt new tears coming coning to his eyes, now because it seemed like everything only got worse, no matter what he did. He angrily wiped at his eyes and turned his head when he heard something from the door. It was Ivan. He had returned, in his hand a small, wooden first aid kit. Gilbert felt… relieved? Yes, relieved at the sight of the Russian's, who now kneeled down next to him and started taking care of his hands. The albino looked at Ivan's face which was almost expressionless.  
"You have to stop acting like this." He said after a while. Gilbert opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off before he was able to.  
"I know what you feel like. You feel lonely. You have nobody to talk to and you miss your brother. You miss your home." Ivan wiped Gilbert's face with a wet cloth. The pale man looked at him with a mix of surprise and distrust on his face. That was exactly how he felt. How did the Russian know that? Gilbert barely ever talked to anyone.  
"But it's your own fault! I tried to make you feel better! I tried to make it as good as possible, for everyone of you. If I could decide I'd let you all go home. I don't want to live in a house full of people that hate me because they have to live with me. And you don't even try! You don't even try to get along with me or the others; all you do all day long is sitting in here and… pity yourself!"

Surprised by this outburst Gilbert didn't even protest. Why should he anyway? Everything he had said was true. The Russian had an almost hurt look on his face and Gilbert assumed that he had feelings close to his own. He felt lonely and had nobody to talk to. A sudden, overwhelming felling of loneliness came over Prussia. Ludwig. If only Ludwig was here. Gilbert could hug him; they could talk or at least eat or drink together. How much he craved Ludwig's scent and what it felt like to hug him, his dear little brother. He had become so strong, hadn't he? He didn't need Gilbert anymore. But Gilbert needed him, desperately. He needed him to hug him with his strong arms and make him feel better, like he had after Gilbert had lost his country and before he had to go and live with Russia. Gilbert stared at Ivan's broad chest. A bit like Ludwig's, maybe even broader. He smiled a bit. How much he missed Ludwig. How much he missed to hug him. Before he knew what he was doing Gilbert had leaned against Ivan's chest, his arms wrapped around the taller man. He didn't smell or feel like Ludwig. But it was good too.

* * *

Gilbert lazily looked at the ceiling. It was white. It was always white. A dry chuckle escaped his lips. Of course it was, why should it change? He leaned his cheek against Ivan's chest and closed his eyes. The Russian was so warm and big. Gilbert inhaled his scent, the scent of snow. It was a bit like hugging a big, warm snow man. Gilbert smiled again and felt a warm hand stroking his back. The albino opened one eye again and looked up in Ivan's face, whose eyes where focused on his paperwork. The two men sat at a desk. Ivan was working while Gilbert sat on his lap sidewise and let the Russian pet him like he was a puppy. The albino didn't mind though; he had grown used to this over the time and actually enjoyed it. Attention and warmth, the two things Gilbert needed the most. Whenever he wanted some love he went to Ivan. Russia always had time for him, no matter what he was doing at the moment. Sometimes it made Gilbert smile how much he was like the mistress of the taller man. It wasn't a happy smile though, more like a sad one. Once he had had so much pride and now there was barely any pride left in him. All the years in Russia's house had made him let go of almost everything he had been once. Now he would do anything just to get some warmth. Gilbert smiled up at Ivan. Was it love that he felt for him? No, it wasn't love. Gilbert needed him desperately, like a drug. That wasn't love. Ivan smiled back at him as he noticed the smaller man looking at him. It wasn't love. But Gilbert wasn't sure what it was. Maybe he was going insane. Prussia nuzzled into the other one's chest. No, he wasn't going insane. He had been going insane years ago. Now he was insane. Gilbert smiled.

* * *

He felt Ivan's big hand on his shoulder. Only for a few minutes, Gilbert thought excitedly. It'll be over in a few minutes! I'm coming! They drove together in the car and Gilbert looked out of the window. There it was, Germany. He was back. He was coming home. The car stopped and the door opened. The Prussian stepped outside and inhaled with a big smile. It looked different from what he remembered, but he had been gone for forty years after all. Had it really been that long? Well, now he was back. Home. He turned his gaze to the building. Soon he would come outside. They would be reunited. They would be together again. Together. Home. Gilbert didn't look at Russia next to him. Today he didn't care about Ivan. Today was all about them. Their reunion. He couldn't wait any longer. Finally the door of the building opened and _he _stepped outside. The blond hair slicked back, well dressed, just as Gilbert remembered him. Prussia walked towards him. First slowly, then faster and faster and then he ran, no, stormed towards his little brother who smiled at the sight of him. Gilbert wrapped his arms around Ludwig. He felt like back then. He smelled like back then. He hugged his big brother back.  
"Welcome home, Gilbert." Ludwig smiled and started leading the smaller man inside. Prussia didn't let go of him, he never wanted to let go of his brother again. Not after they had been parted all these years.  
"Come inside. You're way too thin; I have to cocker you up." They went in the house and Gilbert smiled up at the blonde.  
"I missed you, Brüderchen." He mumbled and wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck. Now almost carrying him, Germany went to the kitchen with his brother. "I missed you too."

Ivan went back into the car. He told the driver to get him to the airport and leaned against the window. Of course he had known that Gilbert had only used him to satisfy his need for love, but still he was a bit sad. At least a last hug would have been nice, but Ivan could understand that he had wanted to get home as soon as possible. Now Russia would drive home, to his big house where he had nobody. He smiled a bit and looked away from the window. In his hand he had a little cross. It looked like the iron cross, but it was made of wood. Gilbert had goven it to him one day a few years ago.

"Welcome home, Gilbert."

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**That was my fanfic! Thank you very much for reading and I hope you liked it! ****The horizontal lines mean a time skip.**** Sorry for all the GermanyXPrussia bromance… The Germany bros are just my BroTP! Please review. Please. Or I will cry. A lot. **


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